


Belong to Him

by AnotherAnon0



Series: A Complicated Affair [8]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Chastity Device, Cock Cages, Collars, Come Eating, Come Swallowing, Consensual Non-Consent, Cuckolding, Face Slapping, Hair-pulling, Homophobic Language, Humiliation, Licking, M/M, Master/Servant, Open Relationships, POV First Person, Power Dynamics, Rimming, Rough Body Play, Size Kink, Slut Shaming, Spanking, Verbal Humiliation, rough anal sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:36:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27809215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherAnon0/pseuds/AnotherAnon0
Summary: William likes to watch.[heed tags!]
Relationships: Sergei Vladimir/Albert Wesker, William Birkin/Albert Wesker, William Birkin/Sergei Vladimir
Series: A Complicated Affair [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1827997
Comments: 20
Kudos: 30





	1. William

**Author's Note:**

  * For [misch3fbunni3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/misch3fbunni3/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William's POV.

I remember the first time it came up.

We were having dinner at that nice restaurant you'd booked us reservations at -- the one with the pianist. I had the lamb steak.

I was sitting _right in front of you_ but your eyes kept fluttering in the corners of your eyes to _him_.

Sergei.

He was sitting with his back to us, at one of the large tables obscured by the elaborate, marble posts in the hall. He was with the board of executives. I hadn't known the were going to be at the restaurant that night but it didn't make a difference.

Or, it wouldn't have. Usually. 

You always pretended you hated him. You complained about him endlessly. As I sliced into my steak, you began to harp about _this_ thing he did or _that_ thing he'd done.

You hid a smirk with your wine glass when I told you to 'just get a room.'

And then it hit me; the realisation of how much you'd have loved that. 

It lingered heavily in my chest the rest of the night. It sat in my stomach as I fucked you, assessing your face closer than I ever had before, noticing the utter boredom plastered across your pristine features. Your moans were hollow, meant to appease me. They always had been.

As we lay in the aftermath of yet another night of mutually unsatisfactory coitus, I spoke. 

"You know..."

"Mmph..."

"I'm still with Annette." I said, "For Sherry, of course, but..."

"Yes."

"It just..." I shrugged, "... feels unfair that you can't have others, too."

You pretended to be revolted at the idea of opening our relationship.

You scoffed and shook your head. You nudged my shoulder and told me you were fine.

But you're a _fucking_ bad liar, Albert. You always have been. 

The next day, I went to Sergei. 

I puffed up my chest and stood in front of his desk while he was eating his sashimi lunch, clearly trying to hide his amusement as I stumbled around incoherently with my half-assed invitation to dinner. 

He saw right through it.

I was almost grateful. His words, spoken casually through bites of raw tuna, were a perverse relief.

"Look... Doctor... Do you want me to fuck him or not?"

The emotions that went through me that night... God, I can't even describe it.

Watching you prim and prep yourself in ways I'd never seen, a tiny, giddy expression on your face. I watched you fuss with your hair for fifteen minutes, mew over how tired you looked, and worry about what cologne to wear. You slipped in and out of the en suite bathroom rapidly, and while you sorted yourself out I plodded downstairs to wait.

Annette had taken Sherry to her grandparent's for the weekend, needing to work in silence at the office at the cabin on a briefing. She was used to the neighbours chattering about the black Umbrella convoys that sometimes lined the streets, so I wasn't worried when I saw the cars pull up.

But, _for fucks sake_ , did Sergei ever seem **_so_** out-of-place in my suburban house.

He looked as though he'd manifested by a curse in a very odd space, towering like a dark spectre amongst the bland beige and vanilla IKEA do-it-yourself crap furniture in my living room. He just smiled at me before passing me by, you calling him from the top of the stairs.

I'd told you I'd make myself scarce. That I was probably going to catch a movie, or grab something back at the office. 

I should have.

I didn't. 

At first, I har-hummed over the dishes, slowly sponging them while catching the tail-end of a basketball game on the TV. And then I took out the garbage.

And then, just as I was grabbing my keys from the kitchen table, I heard you start to _scream_.

I know I shouldn't have stood around, listening. 

I know I shouldn't have.

I **_know_** I shouldn't have.

But I'd never heard you scream like that. I never heard you yelp and whine, keel and brea, plead and beg. 

I was halfway up the stairs by the time I knew where the hell I was. I walked slowly -- telling myself that I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I ignored the heat in my cheeks. I ignored the heaviness in my stomach and hips. Sergei was unpredictable, I told myself, he liked extreme shit -- everybody knew that! I needed to make sure you were okay, that was all.

The expression on your face _ruined_ me.

You looked like you were in heaven. Your face was pink, eyes rolling, mouth gaped. There was even a bit of drool leaking from the corner of your lips.

I'd never seen you look like that before. 

And Sergei, _fuck_.

He was tremendous, body fully dwarfing yours -- muscles jutting out in places I didn't even know we had muscles to train. He was perfect. 

It was like watching porn.

I was massaging my cock through my pants before I even realised I was doing it. As quietly as I could, I rushed down to the half-finished basement bathroom and jerked myself off harder than I ever had.

When Sergei came downstairs he found me on the couch, watching television nonchalantly like I'd heard nothing, seen nothing, done nothing.

I pretended to suddenly notice his presence but what a moronic act that was. He saw through me just as quickly as he had before. 

That toothy smirk he flashed at me as he wished me a good night... I knew I was _fucked_.

The next week, when you asked if Sergei could come over again, I resolved I would immediately leave the house. 

I even had my coat on when Sergei arrived, wallet in my pocket, keys in my hand. 

"Where are you going, Doctor?"

No.

"Don't you want to stay?"

_No._

"Come, Doctor. I _know_ you'd enjoy it."

Like he had a leash around my neck, I followed him upstairs. You seem surprised when we both emerged through the threshold of the bedroom door.

You were already looking so dolled-up, sitting on the bed like a model, wearing nothing but those tight, black briefs you'd only worn for me once. 

"What's going on, Sergei?" You ask him, your usual, smarmy drawl a bit stifled by a subservient hitch. 

Sergei sighed loudly, shaking his head, "I feel it is best if he stays." He said firmly, "I am egalitarian! It is against my Soviet nature to leave someone out."

You batted your blue eyes at me, as though suddenly embarrassed by your lack of consideration.

"Will? Do you? Do you want to stay?"

Albert, you have such a goddamned beautiful face.

It drives me insane. Ever since the first moment I saw you across the cafeteria at University, I was obsessed with you. And all I ever wanted, all I ever tried to do, was see you _happy_. It makes me happy when you are.

"Y-yeah..."

Sergei nodded at me with another one of those devious smiles. One that preceded a harsh, unprompted hand clutching my throat. I remember gasping so loud I almost scared myself. 

He pushed me into the corner, where the reading chair -- covered in Albert's clothes -- was. He tossed me into it roughly, manipulating my smaller body like I was a rag doll. I looked up at him and I could practically feel the stupid, stupid expression on my face. I could almost see it reflecting from his unscarred eye, one that was trained on me as he unbuttoned his overcoat and slipped it off. One that was glimmering devilishly as he unbuckled his belt and unzipped his fly, putting himself on display right in front of me. 

He wanted me to see how big his cock was.

It was huge.

I could hear your breath get ragged behind him as you watched from the bed. 

**You _ruin_ me, Albert.**

"I'm going to fuck your little boyfriend now, _da_?"

I hiccuped a nod.

My face was burning. I could smell his cologne and that peculiar _other_ smell men have when they're aroused. It was triggering the worst sensations in my own hips.

"And what are you going to do about it, faggot?" He asked slowly, deliberately. 

The saliva in my throat was so thick I could barely swallow it. 

"N-nothing."

When he turned back to the bed, my hand couldn't have possibly began stumbling over my pants any faster.

I felt pathetic, watching Sergei kneel up onto my matrimonial bed and grab you by the hair. 

I felt pathetic, my hand cramming its way into my half-open fly, pulling out my rock-hard erection.

I felt pathetic, jerking my cock desperately as I watched him manhandle you in ways I'd never be able to.

**But _fuck_ did I feel good.**

Sergei was considerate. He made sure you were both positioned just so I could see everything I needed to see. 

I watched his glorious cock push in and out of you, stretching you, your hole drooling cum and juice all over my dumb Wal-Mart sheet sets as he worked you in ways I could never dream, at depths I would never hit. I watched your face redden as he slapped you cruelly, but your expression never changed from the pure ecstasy it was contorted in. I watched you claw at him, leaving angry streaks across his back and arms, so absorbed in pleasure that you couldn't control yourself.

I came as you did, louder than I had anticipated being but still mousey compared to the scream you belted out. 

It had been the best fuck we'd had in months -- and we hadn't even fucked.

You were such a mess you couldn't move, even after Sergei had dressed himself back in the royal uniform he normally wore. He slipped from the room silently, but a well-mannered, suburban-dad part of myself told me to go after him and see him out.

I tucked myself in and stumbled behind him as he floated down the stairs gracefully, thanking me for the evening with all the casual politeness of as if we'd simply had a nice casserole. As if you weren't lying on the bed upstairs in a pool of your own juice.

Just before Sergei disappeared into the night to meet the convoy waiting for him, he stopped at the doorframe, adjusting his coat.

"Doctor, may I ask you a question?"

"Y-yes. What's up?" A fucking dumbass response, William, that's great.

Sergei cast a glance over his shoulder, a pensive expression on his scarred face.

"What do you get out of it?"

I scratched at the back of my head as I pondered the question that was far too existential for just having cum all over myself.

The cool air from outside blew past Sergei's shoulders and tickled my warm cheeks. It woke me up a little.

"I just love him, Sir." I blathered, "I just want to see him happy."

And if it makes you happy to belong to him, then I will be the one to give you away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL. This isn't the Sergei/William/Albert you wanted, misch3fbunni3, but its the Sergei/William/Albert you got.
> 
> Thank you for kicking my ass into gear TT-TT
> 
> edit: another chapter. sigh.


	2. Albert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is from Albert's POV.

You're the only person who has ever made me happy, William. 

I remember when we were stupid, flirtatious university students. I remember how we tried to hide our intertwined fingers beneath the table in the cafeteria, and deliberately demand to be paired up in lab so we could caress each other in peace after everyone else had pooled out of the seminar room for the night. 

I remember having stupid ideas about us leaving together for good one day. 

But you were shy. You were scared. Your parents would have never understood. And when you told me they'd introduced you to Annette, I experienced _fear_ of losing someone for the first time.

You became a perfect husband and father, doting over your beautiful family in your beautiful suburban house with your beautiful shrubbery. I knew you were happy to keep up appearances, and your happiness made me happy. But, _dear lord_ , did that minivan-akimbo existence suck the life out of you.

We used to talk about running off to Nicaragua and living in a treehouse. Being guerrilla mercenaries in Borneo. Or maybe just moving to France and taking up a boutique studio apartment above an art gallery like bourgeoise Parisians. After you married Annette, the only excitement we had was the quick fucks we managed when we were alone in the office. 

Then, when Annette found out and didn't even care, the fire was gone from those, too. 

I still loved you, William, but I needed something _else_.

You knew that. I know you felt badly that you couldn't provide it, so I shoved it down deep inside of me and sat on it for our sake. 

The night you offered to open our relationship, my heart skipped a beat. I couldn't believe you'd do something like that for me, and it made me love you even more. I was just satisfied with the offer, and I had no intention of going through with it. You were truly all I needed. Everything else I could find on the seedier parts of the internet. 

When you told me, the next day, that you'd invited Sergei over -- even then I pretended to not want it.

In my own way, that was keeping up appearances for me. I'd always told you that I hated Sergei, but you can always see right through me, can't you?

_"You don't need to hide it from me, alright? I know you like him."_

_"I do not!"_

_"You practically molest him with your eyes on a daily basis, Al, come on."_

You can always see right through me, William. It's what I love about you.

I had a tinge of regret when you told me, with an attempt at a nonchalant sigh, that you were going to catch a movie. You looked a bit lost, emotionally. I was worried I'd made a mistake. I almost wanted to send Sergei away.

Relief washed over me when I caught you standing in the doorway, trying to be discreet, spying on me while I was getting my guts rearranged by that beast of a man. 

I just barely caught you rubbing yourself through your pants before you darted away.

You'd never known I'd seen you. I'd never tell you. I was worried you'd be embarrassed.

But it was a bit of _excitement_ again!

I mentioned it to Sergei while at the office, just after he'd finished wrecking me in the bathroom on Level 5. He already knew -- of course he did. 

He said he knew all about men like you. Men who liked to watch.

He told me he was going to bring you in. That all I needed to do was act coy. 

Watching you on that chair, jerking yourself off furiously while I was getting ruined was _perfection_ , William. I'd never cum so hard. I was barely conscious when I saw you scuttle out of the room behind Sergei, and when you returned you lay down next to me and caressed me with your fingers tenderly. 

_"Did you enjoy yourself?"_ You asked, tepid as though unsure. 

_"Yes."_

I knew things were only going to escalate. A part of me was almost worried, but that perverse, sick part of me that chased excitement and craved the abnormal was vibrating with happiness. I was worried about you -- but when I saw the pep in your step at the laboratory the next day, I dismissed my overly protective side.

This was good for both of us, even if it was abnormal. 

But that was last week. 

Tonight, we went to Sergei's. A stupidly expensive condo in one of those glass high-rises in Manhattan's east side, dressed in boxy, sharp-edged Scandinavian furniture in every shade of ivory. The living room was walled by windows that overlooked the skyline and gave me vertigo anytime I wandered too close to them.

He insisted on vodka, and you drank it, even though you don't usually like hard liquor. 

It was then that I noticed he was focusing on you. Assessing you. Watching you with a glimmer in his unscarred eye that reminded me of a ravenous hawk staring down a little rat. 

Everyone knew Sergei was into crazy shit. I knew that. You knew that. But I couldn't anticipate how the night was going to go and, while part of me hated it, the other part was ready to _explode_.

He told you to undress me. You complied silently, our eyes meeting every few seconds with shared, small smiles as you methodically worked through my buttons and peeled fabric from my skin. 

He told me to lay on the art-deco metal coffee table in the middle of the living room. I complied silently, though my eyes fluttered to the other high rises glimmering around us and I wondered if any of them could see inside. They probably could. 

He told you to undress him. I turned my head to watch you fumble through his clasps and belts and laces. You had to reach up on your tip-toes to grab his collar and pull his coat from his shoulders. He was trying to make you feel small. 

He told you to undress yourself -- only he didn't leave you nude. My breath caught in my throat when I watched him buckle the collar around your neck. It had a little bell on it. 

Your face burned a beet-red, but you accepted it dutifully. Your cock bounced excitedly when he flicked the bell, sneering at you menacingly before ordering you to your knees before me and telling you to prepare me.

_"It's the only preparation he's going to be getting tonight, Doctor. Do a good job, for his sake."_

We'd never done such a thing before. Feeling your tongue prodding at my entrance was as alien as it was moan-inducting.

You lapped at me like a dog while Sergei drank casually, barely paying attention to us from a seat he'd taken in one of the armchairs. He'd put on music -- something grand. Rachmaninoff, I think. He seemed more focused on the poetic piano than he did on remembering there were two other men in his living room, one of which was tonguefucking the other in the ass. There was something cruelly arousing about that. 

Only when my cock was leaking and I was a huffing, desperate mess did Sergei decided to heed us. 

_"Do you want to be fucked now, Albert?"_

_"Y-yes... yes... yes..."_

_"Do you want to be fucked by me, or your little-dicked girlfriend?"_

We both groaned at the same time. Your fingers danced along my calves, you buried your nose into my leg. I could feel how warm your face was. I could hear your stupid, little bell ringing as you quivered. 

_"You..."_

I didn't hesitate when he commanded me onto his lap. _I abandoned you_ to scurry to him, my ass leaking your saliva and the juice you'd drawn from me so diligently. 

I climbed onto his lap, setting my knees beside his thighs in the chair. I kissed him deeply, sucking on his tongue and licking his face greedily. I wiggled my hips in his lap like a desperate whore, rubbing myself against him in pleas that weren't much more than pathetic whines. 

But he denied me. 

_"Tell me how much you love getting fucked by me, malysh."_

_"I love it -- I **love** it!"_

He turned me to face you, demanding, with a hand in my hair, that I look at you. 

You. had your hand on your cock already, thrusting into your own hand, looking strained and conflicted. You looked like a dog humping a stuffed toy, fully oblivious to why it had to do it but unable to stop itself.

 _"Tell him he's pathetic!"_ Sergei barked at me. 

I saw tears gloss over your eyes, the flush in your cheeks become impossibly deeper. The bell was ringing and clinking loudly.

_"You're pathetic!"_

As Sergei impaled me, you let out a meek sob and came on the floor.

So quickly, William. You enjoyed it that much?

Sergei assumed a rhythm using my hair and arm as a grip to do so, pulling me up and forcing me down like I was a rag doll. I could smell the vodka on his breath when he leaned to yell at you over my shoulder, demanding you suck your cum out of the carpet so it wouldn't stain.

And you did it. 

You did it, just as readily as you crawled over to us when he demanded it and stick your tongue out to collect any cum and juice leaking from me as he fucked me, telling you to keep his floor clean.

I could feel the wispy, coarse hair of your sandy head tickle my inner thighs as I bounced and bobbed on Sergei's lap, squealing like a pig.

Of course you licked and sucked the cum out of my ass when he was finished with me, and you thanked him loudly for the privilege through tears of overwhelming pleasure.

I'd never been so happy. And it was all because of you. 

I wanted to belong to him, but I wanted you to be the one to give me away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously, next up will be Sergei.
> 
> I am sorry, I did not intend to write more to this story but it is just so much fun I could not even stop myself today!


	3. Sergei

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Sergei's POV

There was a part of me that was disappointed.

The day you came into my office, Doctor Birkin, I had hoped that all of your bumbling and blathering would lead somewhere different. 

Albert isn't a prize, you see. 

I know you'd disagree if I ever said it to you, but Albert is _just_ _pretty_.

He's a standard, mass-produced _bimbo_. He wants to be fucked and brought to his edge, over and over. He wants to be stimulated, to be owned, to own, to ruin and be ruined. He loves having a metaphorically dark side, one that sinks his pompous brain into his cunt when he's lusted after or lusts for another.

He's a whore who is obsessed with chasing his own pleasure. That is all. 

Indulging sluts like Albert is so boring it's almost a chore for me. Half of the time, I barely notice when they're choking on my dick, though sometimes I can get some paperwork done while they do. Fucking them is just barely better, a warm body to bury seed in.

But I need excitement too.

And you... you're different.

You're such a tightly-woven, repressed shell of a man. 

I'd watch you shuffle around the laboratory from my purview, coiled shoulders rolled over a hunched neck and a perpetually scowling face. You are so small.

You were, dare I say, _cute_. Not like a puppy is cute or a little girl is cute. You're not particularly attractive. You look disheveled half of the time, white lab coat incorrectly buttoned, plain slacks wrinkled, face poorly shaven -- but you are cute nonetheless. Like a mouse I wanted to bat between my paws while you squeaked and pouted and scurried impotently. Then, I wanted to lick you like you were my kitten, holding you close to me with your tail looped around my claw, keeping you confused about your fate.

So when I agreed to take Albert -- it was just for you. 

How happy I was when I noticed you, that first night! I smelled your arousal before I saw you, a reflection in the picture frame on the opposing wall. 

Albert had noticed you, too. And he mentioned it to me later on. 

He was distraught. In his post-orgasm clarity, he told me he'd had second thoughts about continuing with me. As if I gave a fuck! But seeing his emotional conflict was humbling. He does love you, Doctor. That much I can say for certain. He's just compelled by his nature. 

And in the conflict, I saw _opportunity_. 

Opportunity to get what I wanted from you _through_ him. So I convinced him to let me bring you into our meeting that weekend. I was so pleased when you followed me up the stairs like a good little mouse.

Doctor Birkin, I must admit -- when I grabbed you by the throat, it was significantly more arousing than anything I did with Albert. The look of shock and fear in your beautiful, dark eyes was what got me hard enough to fuck Albert, not how he'd been splayed out for me willingly in those tight, dark briefs.

When I took my cock out to shame you before I fucked your boyfriend, it took every bit of self control I had to not impale you with it right there. 

The next time we met at my condo, I was _joyous_ when I got another taste of your submission. Even giving you the vodka, which you accepted despite Albert's chirping that you didn't drink hard liquor. Your eyes came to mine as you took your first sip and I knew -- _**I knew**_ \-- you belonged to me.

You looked very cute in that collar, Doctor. And you accepted it so well. 

For our meeting tonight I got you a much nicer one.

Pink -- with a little bow and a glittering gem in the centre. It complimented your sandy blonde hair -- hair I noticed, with obvious delight, you'd trained out of the mess it usually was. And your skin was smooth, freshly shaven -- you were making an effort. It was beautiful. 

The collar complimented the other gift I arranged for you. The pink latex softening the metal of the chastity cage matched perfectly.

You trembled when I fit it onto you, the little, silver lock clinking cutely as I snapped it shut and tossed the key onto my counter nonchalantly. 

I told you to kneel and watch. 

My use of Albert that night was strictly drawn out to make you as overwhelmingly aroused as possible. I went slower than I usually did, putting Albert on display before you.

I rubbed my hands across him, kneading his cock and fingering his slit until he was a dripping, drooling mess. Until his muscles quivered beneath the flesh. Until he was whining and begging like the putrid whore he was. 

And then I made him _see_ you.

I made him _describe_ you. 

_"H-he's kneeling on the floor... with a cage on his cock... and a collar around his neck..."_

_"And who put his cock in a cage and a collar on his neck?"_

_"You did."_

You trembled and whined then, bouncing slightly, thighs shaking, your little penis leaking from its metal confines. Your fingers tried to touch your hardening flesh through the cage but they couldn't. It was frustrating, I know. I needed you to be frustrated, Doctor. To be needy. And for me to control your essence. To control _you_.

I fucked Albert roughly, bending him over to lean on the coffee table and take him where you crawl between our legs, cleaning the mess as it was made. 

I smiled when I felt your tongue roll against my thrusting shaft as you drank.

You wanted to taste me.

I let you -- for a moment. I couldn't allow you to continue, not yet. It wasn't your place, and you needed to know that. 

Albert gasped when I withdrew from him suddenly, mewing and whining. I ignored him and turned my attention to you. I grabbed you by the cheeks, squeezing the flushed, chubby flesh of your feminine jaw beneath my fingers firmly but carefully. 

_"Filthy thing! You didn't have permission to touch me."_

Your cock was practically pouring through the cage when I pulled you from the floor and bent you at the hips. I delivered your punishment -- firm, open-handed saps across your blushing bottom until you weeped. Your hands grabbed at your locked cock in desperation, squeezing whatever flesh you could, begging for release through sobs. 

I forced you back to your knees once I was done painting mars on your flesh that I was sufficiently satisfied would bruise well.

You were practically throwing a tantrum of need, clawing at the carpet and at your thighs as I returned to Albert, who had been fingering himself greedily while he'd been neglected, satisfying himself to the sight of you being corrected.

I kept my gaze on you as I finished fucking him, and you kept those beautiful, dark blue eyes on me. I knew you were imagining being the one in Albert's place, getting ruined over a coffee table like a cheap whore. And yes, Doctor, I was fantasising about it being you, too.

But it never will be.

That just wouldn't be any fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well this was fun.
> 
> I actually REALLY liked how this story turned out. Like, REALLY liked it. This might actually shuffle past The Quiet Ones as the favourite story I have written so far, in my opinion. I think each chapter ended out weaving into each other better than I expected. But that's NOT SAYING MUCH TT-TT
> 
> Thank you for reading! As always, any recommendations are welcome!


End file.
